Sisters poem

The Ekphrastic Review has a regular series of Ekphrastic Writing Challenges, in which they post a piece of visual art and invite writers to respond to it. I have had several poems published in this way.

Here is a link to the artwork and response pieces for the most recent challenge, “The Two Sisters” by Théodore Chassériau (France) 1843. Among them is a poem by Kyle Laws, fellow Boiler House Poets Collective member and ekphrastic writer extraordinaire!

My piece was not chosen in this go-round, but I thought I’d share it here. Enjoy!

Sisters

Is it the matching outfits
that proclaim sisterhood –
my sisters and I in pale

yellow with coordinating
hats and gloves
for Easter mass –

my daughters in black
velvet with lacework collars
in a rare formal portrait –

my granddaughters in rainbow-
and-unicorn pajamas
in pandemic London –

or is it the dimples
that appear with smiles
the entwined arms

the mischievous glance?

One-Liner Wednesday: words

I take it as an elemental truth of life that words matter.

Krista Tippett in Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living, page 15

Please join us for Linda’s One-Liner Wednesday! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2021/02/10/one-liner-wednesday-drive-slowly/

Dealing with dementia

AARP recently published a gut-wrenching, heart-warming article entitled Tony Bennett’s Battle with Alzheimer’s.

Alzheimer’s runs in my father’s family. Paco’s father and all three of his siblings who survived into their seventies struggled with it. Because of his history, Paco enrolled in a long-term medical study on the effects of medications as possible preventatives for symptoms of the disease, which, unfortunately, did not find any effective medications.

As Paco aged well beyond the onset age of his afflicted family members without symptoms, we were relieved, as it looked like he might have avoided those particular family genes. People did always say that he took after his mother’s side of the family.

There are, however, other types of dementia, the risks of which increase with age. Paco, who will turn 96 next month, is suffering from some unnamed type of dementia. We are grateful that, while the memory loss is problematic, he has retained his generally cheerful disposition, sparing us all the personality changes that were so jarring in Paco’s father and siblings.

He has been having memory loss and cognitive problems for several years, which we had been managing with daily visits, phone calls, notes, pill organizers, and staff help. Things got immensely more complicated when COVID limited our in-person visits and disrupted Paco’s daily routine. It also made a possible move to the assisted living unit where his care could be better addressed more difficult, as family visits were nearly impossible for months.

When Paco became ill and was hospitalized in December, the decision to move out of his independent living apartment was made for us. There was no way that he could be safe without 24/7 staff availability, which he now has in the assisted living unit, where he has his own living room, kitchenette, bedroom, and bathroom along with three daily meals plus snacks, a nurse to manage and deliver his medications, aides to assist with activities, and the company of the other residents, all of whom have now been vaccinated against COVID-19 and most of whom he knew because they also started out in Independent Living in their senior community. Unfortunately, in-person visiting of people outside the unit is severely restricted, although I’m hoping that increasing vaccination rates and warmer weather permitting outdoor visits will ease the situation in the coming months.

Because I genuinely do try to address issues that are on the top of my mind here, it’s been difficult not to write about Paco’s dementia more directly over these last years. For a good chunk of that time, I avoided it because Paco followed my posts via email and I was afraid posting about it would further confuse or upset him. Now, he is well beyond being able to navigate email and websites, so I don’t have that worry – and the few people who read my blog and know Paco in real life already know the situation.

In truth, I’ve also had difficulty articulating my thoughts and feelings around this. Although my family dealt with cognitive decline with both my mother and father-in-law when they were terminally ill, Paco’s long, slow loss of memory has been even more excruciating. While I can adjust to the loss of short-term memory that results in answering the same question multiple times in a short phone conversation, I have a harder time dealing with the loss of long-time skills and words. When he can be looking at a dinner plate with his favorite food but not remember what it is. When he forgets the name of someone he has known for decades. When he, who was always meticulous in following his finances, can no longer add numbers.

It’s painful. Every time. And hard to express in words. Even in poetry.

My consolation is that it is seldom upsetting to him. By some grace, he is handling things with equanimity with only occasional moments of frustration.

He keeps reminding me of his favorite saying, “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

JC’s Confessions #17

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, now a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

JC

Today is Super Bowl Sunday, which means that is it the championship of American football.

And I don’t care.

I’m not planning to watch the game or the halftime show or the commercials, which have become an attraction of their own.

I don’t enjoy watching football games. They are very slow; one hour of actual playing time takes at least three hours to accomplish. I am not attracted to watching heavily padded men run around and knock each other down and sometimes sustain injuries.

This year, the Super Bowl is being looked at as a few hours of national unity in the midst of division and I hope that that is true. Personally, I don’t need a game to make me feel like an American. After the attempted insurrection of January 6th, my level of commitment to the country has never been higher.

The sad thing will be that, after the game, the anticipated national unity will revert to what it was yesterday and will be on full display for the rest of the week as the Senate trial over the former president proceeds.

It’s also possible that millions of people will defy public health warnings and meet with people outside their households for Super Bowl parties, which might cause another COVID-19 spike, with attendant hospitalizations and deaths, in the coming weeks.

That would be the saddest Super Bowl result ever.

SoCS: honoring the flag

One of the most poignant moments in Joe Biden’s inauguration was when Lady Gaga gestured toward the flag on the Capitol dome at the words “that our flag was still there” during her rendition of the national anthem.

At any other time, this would have seemed gratuitous, but, given that this was only a couple of weeks after the insurrection of January 6th, it was very moving.

Not since the War of 1812, which gave us the words to our national anthem, had our Capitol suffered such an assault and flags were an important part of the symbolism on that day.

United States flags were torn down and replaced by Trump campaign flags.

A police officer was beaten with a flagpole bearing our flag.

In an image that has been shown countless times since the insurrection, a man carries the Confederate battle flag through the Capitol, something that did not happen during the Civil War itself.

It’s all been disconcerting and unsettling and tragic, especially when so many members of Congress have decided we should just “move on” without accountability for those responsible. The “move on” cohort is all Republican; one wonders if they somehow did not feel under threat for their lives as the Democratic members did during the assault. (To be clear, there are Republican members who want accountability, but, to my knowledge, there are no Democratic or Independent members who are in the “move on” group.)

There are efforts underway to clean and repair the damage at the Capitol and to reclaim the space for our true democracy and its flag. The image I am clinging to at the moment is one of the urn holding the cremains of Officer Brian Sicknick, who died as a result of the insurrection, beside a United States flag, folded into a triangle and encased in a glass-fronted box, in the Capitol rotunda beneath the dome. He was lying in honor because he had sacrificed his life protecting his country and the Congress. His fellow Capitol police officers, other members of law enforcement, the President and First Lady, and many members of Congress joined his family in showing respect to him.

In doing this, they were also showing respect for our flag, which is still there despite the attempts of a violent mob to replace it.

*****
Linda’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday this week is “flag.” Join us! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2021/02/05/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-feb-6-2021/

One-Liner Wednesday: RIP, Heroes

Rest in peace, Officer Brian Sicknick and Captain Sir Tom Moore.

Please join us for Linda’s One-Liner Wednesdays! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2021/02/03/one-liner-wednesday-is-time-ever-wasted/

SoCS: surprise poem

I carved out a bit of writing time today – a rarity in the whirlwind that has been my life lately.

I went to Linda’s blog to read the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt which is:

Your prompt for #JusJoJan and Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “the beginning, the end.” Write about the beginning of something and the end of  something. Bonus points if your first sentence contains “the end” and your last sentence contains “the beginning.” <– Read that again. Have fun!

I admit that I couldn’t wrap my head around beginnings and endings as I am mired in a seemingly endless middle with lots of twists and turns and no real clarity of if/when there will be a conclusion, so I set the whole enterprise aside and decided to do some housekeeping in my overcrowded Google Chrome window. One of the first tabs I went to was one for The Ekphrastic Review, which has a new monthly column on ekphrasis, which is the practice of basing one work of art on another, most often used in the context of writing poetry based on visual art pieces.

While I was there, I figured I should check out the current Ekphrastic Writing Challenge. It is a painting called The Two Sisters by Théodore Chassériau. Given that I have sisters – and two daughters and two granddaughters – the painting inspired a poem in response, so that has become my beginning (middle) and end for this post.

Well, perhaps not quite the end yet. The poem does have an end, of course, but the real ending will be when I submit it to the challenge. I want to let it set a bit and will probably share it with daughter T. I don’t have another meeting of my critique group before the entry is due, so I’ll have to trust sending it without professional critique and revision.

Still, it was nice to have a poem appear on a day that I hadn’t expected it – and to have a blog post appear when I didn’t think I would have one of those either.

But no bonus points for me this time around…

*****
Join us for Linda’s Just Jot It January and/or Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2021/01/29/the-friday-reminder-for-socs-jusjojan-2021-daily-prompt-jan-30th/

what today calls for

There are some days when you just need to make a spice cake.

Wait. That is probably not true. Let me re-phrase.

Today, I needed to make a spice cake.

This afternoon, while driving home from a trip to deliver a medication to the nurses at Paco’s assisted living unit and stopping to have a document notarized stating that my power of attorney for him is in effect, after a morning spent with him at a new specialist, I was seized with a desire to eat spice cake.

It’s not one of those things you can easily buy at the supermarket or bakery, so I pulled out my Betty Crocker cookbook when I got home and set to work.

Why spice cake? It is an old-time favorite that fills the kitchen with a wonderful aroma as it bakes. When B and I were married in the early ’80s, I chose a spice cake with buttercream icing as our wedding cake, a daring choice in the age of white wedding cakes with sugary white icing. I still love the taste of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove and find them comforting.

Spice cake stands on its own. It doesn’t need to be layered and frosted. A simple, square pan suffices.

A bonus bit of nostalgia was also involved today.

One of the things I brought home from cleaning out the kitchen in Paco’s apartment in independent living was a set of RevereWare metal bowls that Nana had used when we were growing up and kept all these years. While I had my own set from when B and I first set up house, my mother’s were heavier and the largest bowl of the three was larger than my own set.

It was this largest bowl that I used today to mix my spice cake.

It’s in the oven now.

I have several dozen other things I should be doing right now, but I am instead writing this post, thinking about my parents and home and the passage of time and what is important and the meaning of making spice cake for my family.

And breathing in the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove.

the meaning of January

Linda’s Just Jot It January is designed that anything one jots down can be transformed into a #JusJoJan post of the day.

Fortunately for all of you, I haven’t been taking this literally.

Otherwise, my January would be filled with texts, emails, and long lists of questions and reminders as I have tried to navigate the complexities of dealing with the care of my father, known here as Paco, in the time of COVID.

As the new year began, Paco was nearing the end of a stay in the rehab/skilled nursing unit in the health care center of his senior community, following five days in the hospital in mid-December. We were trying to finalize his move into the assisted living unit, which also triggered the need to close out his independent living apartment as soon as practicable. There were also issues with his medical and personal care to deal with – and, due to COVID restrictions, it all had to be done by phone or email or picking up and dropping off documents and forms and signed permissions, with only occasional in-person contact, none of which could be with Paco.

It’s been, in turns, confusing and frustrating and harried and bureaucratic – and perpetually exhausting.

It’s also been very difficult to write about.

So, here I am, trying once again to sum up the situation and convey it in words, unsure that I am capable of doing so.

A few days before Paco move to assisted living, we noticed that he was struggling with some everyday kinds of things like using the telephone. I expected that an infection he had had had returned and managed to convince the medical team to test for it. It turned out that I was correct but the test results didn’t come back until Paco had already moved to his new place in assisted. He was started on a new medication, but the combination of the infection, medications, being in a new environment, having to do another 14-day COVID quarantine because he had moved to a new unit within the health care building, and not being able to see family or have them help him set up his new place has made an already daunting situation extremely difficult.

I am doing the best that I can to care for him, but it is not good enough and I can’t manage to fix everything in a timely way. I’ve made some progress but the pace has been slow. While I am not by nature an impatient person, after so many weeks of this, I am frustrated and immeasurably sad.

The comfort I have is that Paco is seemingly unaware of all the complexities of the situation. He doesn’t usually remember the things he used to do before this latest illness, so he isn’t really missing them. While his memory is impaired at this point, he has not had the personality changes that affected other members of his family when they developed dementia, so he is generally in a good mood, although his fatigue level does sometimes put a damper on things.

So, here we are, starting another week. There are more lists of things to do, people to call, tasks to accomplish. One big thing that is (nearly) completed is the closing out of Paco’s old apartment. I turned the keys in last week, but the person I needed to interface with wasn’t there, so I’m not entirely sure we’re finished with the process.

Sometimes, people choose a word or phrase for the new year. Perhaps, for me, this will be the year of “not entirely sure.”

Like last year, 2021 may be a year of uncertainty.

One-Liner Wednesday: inauguration day

I haven’t been this anxious for noon to come since my wedding day.
~ my thought this morning as we await the inauguration of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris as president and vice-president of the United States

Brought to you by Linda’s One-Liner Wednesdays and Just Jot It January. Join us! Find out more here: https://lindaghill.com/2021/01/20/one-liner-wednesday-jusjojan-the-20th-2021-defeat/